Say You Love Me
by Europe28
Summary: suddenly Francis drew back looking Arthur hard in the face. "What?" Arthur was a little intimidated by the look.  "If we're going to do this you have to say you love me first" Francis told him stubbornly, folding his arms. FrUk Two-Shot
1. Chapter 1

"They did this deliberately" Arthur grumbled, sitting at Francis' table resting his chin on his hand looking irritated.

Germany had decided at the last European Union meeting that the nations weren't working hard enough together on their projects, so they'd all been assigned a partner to complete a section of the work with.

The only reason Arthur could think they'd pair the English nation and French nation together was for a joke.

However Francis was sitting opposite him, studying the documents they'd been given. He hadn't complained since they left the meeting hall. Though obviously he'd protested possibly even more than Arthur himself when Germany first announced it- even going as far as to suggest the only reason Germany was assigning these work partners was so he'd have a chance to be alone with Italy.

"Well let's just get on with it then" Francis muttered, not looking up from the work, "the sooner we get it over and done with the sooner you can bugger off back to your house."

Even though he didn't show it, Arthur felt that sting a little.

"I don't want to be in your stupid house anyway; it stinks of cheese!" Arthur shot back, folding his arms and pouting; there was no way he was helping the frog now.

"Don't be childish" Francis sighed, passing him a clump of paper, "just read through this."

England blinked at him. Francis was acting weird... In a normal situation like this he'd be trying to coax Arthur towards his bedroom, or he'd just piss off to pick up some girl then not do any of the work. He'd be arguing with him at the very least.

Silently, with another careful look at Francis, Arthur began to shift through the documents. It was just all the boring stuff Germany had been going on about at the meeting.

"Francis..." Arthur opened his mouth, trying not to sound too worried or concerned,

"yes?" The Frenchman sounded exasperated, putting down his papers and looking Arthur right in the eye.

Backtracking a little, Arthur glanced a little to the side to study Francis' cooking unit.

"I... I'm hungry do you expect me to starve!" He glanced at his watch, "look its already Nine o'clock!"

Rolling his eyes, Francis put the paper down, making his way over to the kitchen. "Well we can't have that can we" England thought he caught him muttering under his breath.

What on earth was wrong with him today!

"Did you miss out on a date or something!" Finally snapping, Arthur threw his arms up in the air, knocking a few of the papers on the floor.

Francis didn't even turn to look at him, but he muttered a reply, "yes, I'd been working on her for two weeks, and finally she agreed to going out one night with moi,"

"Oh come on, you date someone new every few weeks, you can't be moping about that" Arthur scoffed disbelievingly.

"I'd rather be out with her, than in here with you!" Francis growled, spinning round and glaring at the slightly smaller man.

"Right... I mean; Right!" Arthur snapped, shaking his head, "in that case go on your stupid date, I'll do this stuff; I can copy your handwriting anyway!"

The two glared at each other for a moment; then Francis slammed the pans he'd been holding into the sink. "Cook your own dinner then, don't make a mess!" He stormed away, pulling his coat of the back of his chair and storming out of the room. After a moment Arthur heard the front door slam.

He looked around at the suddenly empty apartment.

It was one thing he found unnerving about Francis' country, it was always so quiet compared to England.

Bending down to pick the papers he'd knocked on the floor up, Arthur rubbed his eyes quickly. He hated Francis! He hated him!

Well, he'd get all this work done and make Francis feel guilty he hadn't done more to help. Never rely on such a distractable country to get anything done!

* * *

><p>Francis smiled across politely at the stunning looking woman sitting opposite him. Sure he felt a little guilty about leaving Arthur to do all the work, but he'd already done a fair bit while the Brit was sulking.<p>

"I heard you were in Germany this morning" the woman smiled, "your life must be exciting?"

Francis lifted his glass and winked, "it's all work of course," she laughed.

The Frenchman took a sip of his glass feeling his stomach give a small clench.

"_We can get the work done at my house" Francis muttered while he and Arthur waited for the train, "that's closer."_

_The Brit nodded stiffly, indicating with a nod that the train was coming._

_He and Arthur found the only compartment with any spaces left. Of course it meant they had to sit next to each other, but anything was better than standing; even sitting next to the Rosbif._

_Francis spent most of the journey flirting with a pretty woman sitting opposite him, while Arthur blinked nervously at the children that were trying to clamber onto his lap._

_If it had been anyone else Francis would have said that it was quite cute... But of course if it was anyone else he probably wouldn't have noticed._

_Then he felt something slump against him._

_The woman he'd been talking to giggled at the scene._

_Francis knew Arthur hadn't gotten very much sleep last night; he never did in hotels. But he hadn't been expecting this._

_Arthur's messy head was resting on his shoulder, his slim feminine body resting slightly against Francis' side; his hands were resting limply in a slight grip on Francis' arm, positioning it like a pillow._

_His eyes were closed, and breathing easy._

"_Is he your boyfriend?" The girl asked, "sorry, I thought you were straight, but now I look at it, you two are too cute together for you to be straight."_

_Francis opened his mouth to protest. His initial thoughts being that Arthur had selfishly lost him a quick shag in the train's toilets._

_He closed his mouth, cautiously moving his arm from Arthur's hands and wrapping it round his shoulders, holding the other's body a little closer to his._

_He removed it quickly at the end of the journey when he felt Arthur stirring._

_Arthur yawned and stretched, rubbing his tired eyes. Francis felt his heart rate increasing; of course this only made him feel more irritated than he already was. _

_He was meant to be angry because this partner work thing meant he couldn't go on his date tonight, and here was he actually not having denied in conversation that Arthur was his boyfriend..._

_...Of course it was just to humour the girl; that must have been why he hadn't said anything._

_Now Arthur was awake and complaining loudly to anyone that would listen that the seats were uncomfortable Francis couldn't believe what he'd been thinking while he was asleep._

The food had just arrived, and the woman was fluttering her eyelashes and asking what sort of work he was doing.

Francis kept the conversation flowing, but he couldn't help but think of Arthur back at his flat trying to cook himself something to eat (not necessarily edible). What if he made a mess? What if he broke something? What if he hurt himself!

...Wait, was he just worried about the irritating Rosbif for a moment?

Here he was with a beautiful mademoiselle and he was thinking about England! When he should be studying this brilliant body.

Unconsciously he brought his face to his hand.

_They'd stopped for a break through the meeting. A 'Cooling Off Period' Germany had called it. Of course it meant that Francis could go and lark around with Antonio and Gilbert for an hour or so._

_Arthur was looking a little lost, as he always did at European meetings. _

_Usually he could talk to Alfred, Matthew, or Kiku at normal world meetings. But he struggled making friends with the those he didn't know very well._

_Admittedly he got on alright with Gilbert, but he was always with Francis and Antonio during breaks._

_Maybe if Denmark could persuade Norway to join the EU then Arthur could talk to him; they'd always gotten on okay._

_Francis watched Arthur jump when Germany called him over. Probably to try and get Arthur to join the Euro again._

_He found his eyes skimming up and down Arthur's lithe form. His thin waist and curvy hips; it was a body any woman would be happy to have._

_His hair was looking even messier than usual; he kept running his hands through it throughout the __meeting whenever he thought no one was looking. It was probably to keep himself awake._

_Francis always had a room next to Arthur's at meetings in the hotels; so he was aware of the Brit's insomnia like tendencies when sleeping in a bed he wasn't used too._

"After this, do you want to come back to my place for another drink?" The woman flashed her eyelashes suggestively.

This was the moment Francis had been waiting for, but he found himself yet again wondering how Arthur was doing...

"Sorry, I've got loads of work to do... But I'd love to see you again," he pulled a winning smile, kissing the woman's hand passionately.

"You're more patient than I first thought" she grinned, "but your still paying the bill,"

"of course mademoiselle" he beamed.

He was already aware of the problem he had calling anyone but Arthur 'my dear' as of late. Up until recently it had been a name he called everyone, but it just felt so personal to Arthur now.

He paid the bill, and for his date's taxi. Before turning and walking home.

Opening the door he found the lights still on, and all the paper work finished on the table.

Then his eyes fell on the kitchen.

Whatever monstrosity Arthur had been cooking up was all over the floor, along with one of his best pans and a shattered plate.

"Arthur!" He barked, looking around for the Brit. He couldn't have scarpered could he?

No, his coat and suitcase was still here.

Storming through the house, Francis pushed open all the doors; eventually finding that the bathroom door had been locked.

"What did I tell you before I left!" He demanded, shouting through the door, "you do know your cleaning that up don't you!"

"I tried!" Came the frustrated reply,

"Well come back and try harder!" The Frenchman yelled, banging his fist on the door. This was only met with silence.

With an angry huff, Francis marched back to the kitchen pulling out the dust pan and brush, bending down beside the mess. It didn't even look like Arthur had used it.

Francis sweeped up the glass, making to empty the shards in the bin. Then he froze.

Arthur hadn't been lying, he had indeed been trying to clean up the mess. There was already quite a large amount of glass in the bin. The glass had a strange red tint to it.

"Mon Dieu" Francis breathed, peering closer; it was blood there was no doubt of that.

Changing tactics, he emptied the rest of the glass into the bin and hurried back to the bathroom, hammering on the door again.

"Arthur you've hurt yourself, open this door so I can have a look,"

"I'm dealing with it!" The Brit snapped back.

Francis thought he heard a small whimper.

"If you don't open this door, I will bust it open!" The Frenchman wasn't kidding; he was already stepping back aiming his shoulder at the door.

But just before he charged, he heard a click as Arthur unlocked it.

Pushing open the door, Francis found Arthur sitting on the side of the bath beside the sink cradling his right arm, one side of his face was scolded red; and Francis had a sneaky suspicion that underneath all the blood his arm was also burnt.

Already from this distance Arthur's arm looked grotesque; little chips of glass stuck out of it like a pin cushion; tearing at the sensitive skin.

"I'll buy you a new plate" the Englishman muttered, not meeting Francis' gaze; flinching when Francis bent down and pressed his hand gently to the burn on Arthur's cheek.

"How on earth did you manage this?" He asked softly, feeling the skin beneath his hand scolding.

"My omelette spat at me..."

Omelette? That mess had been an omelette? But Francis chose not to criticise now.

Sniffing, Arthur held up his arm painfully for Francis to see; reluctant to straighten it too much. "I fell over with the plate when I burnt myself, and my arm sort of fell on the glass" he admitted, looking annoyed at his own clumsiness. "I tried using my magic to heal it but all the glass gets in the way..."

That would explain why it looked so badly torn. Arthur had tried to heal himself over the glass and ended up making the situation worse.

"Let me," getting back to his feet, Francis opened up his cupboard looking for a pair of tweezers. Locating them, he turned back to Arthur who was eyeing up the implement with little trust.

"You're not touching me with those" he began to argue, giving a small squeak of pain when he tried to heal himself again; succeeding only in tearing more skin.

"ne soyez pas comme un enfant" _Don't be such a child _Francis ordered, carefully securing Arthur's injured arm. Locating the first piece of glass, fixing the tweezers around it and carefully edging it out.

Arthur whimpered but he didn't complain or shout.

When Francis had pulled all the bloody glass from Arthur's arm, he let the Brit mutter something under his breath; resulting in the cuts on his arm beginning to close up, then the burn begin to fade.

He looked just as perfect as ever.

Laughing, Francis shook his head, "how do you do it Angleterre?"

Pouting, Arthur shifted away from him, "I thought you were meant to be with your date?"

Feeling a grimace of annoyance, Francis scowled. "Well it's a good thing I did come back; that wound may have been infected if I didn't come back till tomorrow."

"I wasn't complaining..." Arthur's voice was so quiet Francis thought he might have misheard. But Arthur's cheeks turned a delicate pink colour.

"Mon cher, are you that jealous?" Francis grinned, shielding himself from the predictable reaction.

"Where did you get that from bastard!" The Brit demanded, if possible he was flushing even deeper.

"That is a very suiting blush" The Frenchman smirked, running his forefinger under Arthur's chin.

Stammering, Arthur stepped scooted a little further away, "I'm not blushing!" He snapped, "I-I'm just really angry!"

Clutching his sides, Francis was beside himself with laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. Holding out a hand towards the sulking English nation, "come on cher, I'll order us something."

Taking Francis' hand, he let the other man pull him to his feet.

Arthur stumbled a little, falling into Francis' chest; almost unbalancing the Frenchman. But Francis managed to steady himself; his hands falling to Arthur's waist accidentally.

They both exchanged an embarrassed look before pulling away from one another, letting the other's blush slip.

Francis phoned the Italian down the road, while Arthur fell back onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands.

Earlier today Francis had been absolutely furious at him, now suddenly he'd hurried back from his date and was back to normal again.

"She wasn't that ugly was she?" Arthur asked, glancing up at Francis when he put the phone down.

"What?" Francis tilted his head looking confused,

"Your 'date', she must have been for you to hurry back to me of all people," Arthur felt himself squirm a little with his statement, but he knew it was true.

"Non, she was very beautiful" Francis dismissed, watching the Brit's body shift uncomfortably on the sofa; fighting a sudden urge that had just crept into his head.

"Then why'd you leave her and come back here?" Those deep green eyes blinked at him with all innocence.

Making his way over to the sofa, Francis sat down on the sideways on the sofa, looking down and the Brit with a confused smile.

"You know cher, I'm not sure why" he admitted, slowly reaching out his hand to run through Arthur's bird's nest hair.

Sitting up, the Brit didn't protest against Francis' touch.

"You must be losing it" Arthur laughed nervously, "it's unlike you to turn down pretty people."

Francis didn't miss the sad tone in Arthur's voice, or the way his hand moved up to touch his eyebrows unconsciously.

"You're cute Arthur" Francis untangled his hand from the Brit's hair, instead stroking one of Arthur's eyebrows, "and you are very pretty,"

"you don't tell guys they're pretty" Arthur corrected him, sounding pleased.

"Why not?" Francis questioned, shifting closer,

"W-Well, you just don't..." Arthur realised how close his and Francis' faces were suddenly. Everything in his head was screaming for him to hit Francis back, but something somewhere else made him angle his head when Francis' hand wrapped round the back of his head pulling him forwards to close the gap between them.

At first their kiss was slow and gentle, then Francis gave Arthur's lower lip a small nip. When the English nation moaned, he slipped his tongue inside the other's mouth.

Francis was forcing him back down on the sofa, letting them separate only slightly every now and then for breath- usually leaving them connected with a thin trail of saliva.

Francis was afraid that if he stopped for too long then Arthur might come to his senses and push him back.

He moved his mouth down to Arthur's neck, licking and sucking at the pale skin.

They were interrupted when the doorbell rang.

Francis pulled back, cursing his idea of ordering pizza.

Arthur's lips were swollen and red with a slightly darker bruise where Francis had nipped him, the hicky on his neck was already beginning to show. He lay on the sofa panting for air, while Francis hurried towards the door to pay for the pizza.

"Hot date?" The delivery man asked when he saw Francis,

"Huh?" Glancing down at him self, Francis saw that somehow Arthur had managed to undo his top shirt buttons without him noticing.

He paid for the pizza, returning to the sitting room where Arthur was now sitting up, looking dazed.

They ate their pizzas in silence, neither of them mentioning what had just happened. Then they went to their separate bedrooms and tried to work out what the hell they'd just done.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wow," Germany did indeed sound surprised when they turned up at the next meeting with their paperwork complete.

Most of the EU nations had finished, except for Antonio and Greece that had stupidly been paired together.

"I wanted to work with Lovi!" Antonio wailed when Germany questioned this, "but you had to keep him and Feli to yourself!"

After many tears and accusations. Some of which the rest of them didn't even believe Germany capable of; the German stopped bothering the two about their lack of work.

"I can't believe you and Arthur have gone this long without starting an argument" Gilbert grinned, leaning on Francis' shoulder, "usually Lud's already shouting at you by now..."

"Yeah..." Francis glanced sideways at Arthur, trying to remember the feeling of his lips on his and how perfect his body had felt in his arms.

Giving a small grin, the Prussian leant close to whisper in Francis' ear, "I couldn't help but notice that hicky on England's neck, you don't know how it got there do you?" His smirk only grew broader when Francis' face coloured and he made an embarrassed sound.

"Are you serious?" Antonio bounded into the conversation, "did you actually sleep with him?"

"Of course not!" Francis snapped, a little too loudly.

Everyone turned to look at him, including Arthur. Who blushed with the most adorable face Francis had ever laid eyes on.

"Of course I don't agree with killing bulls in that stupid game of yours!" He turned to Antonio, clearing up the mess he'd put himself in, "it's ridiculously cruel!"

"Oh don't be a spoil sport!" The Spaniard snapped back, "it wouldn't be interesting if you couldn't kill them."

Gilbert calmed his two friends down, pulling them to a corner of the room that was a little more quiet.

"So tell us what happened then?" He insisted, giving Antonio a tap round the head to stop him talking about bulls.

"Well... I was meant to be on this date with this woman... you know, the one I told you about?"

Both Antonio and Gilbert nodded.

"But... Well... I couldn't stop thinking about him the whole time... So I went back and found he'd been trying to cook and had burnt himself then cut himself on the plate; so I helped dab him up... Then I ordered pizza... And while we were waiting we sort of kissed..."

"Sort of?" Antonio and Gilbert had never heard Francis use such a term in a sentence before.

"I had him down beneath me on the sofa; then the doorbell rang and I had to go get the pizza... We haven't spoken since..." He breathed a sad sigh, "I'm not even sure I want to talk about it..."

"But I thought you liked him?" Antonio tilted his head innocently, earning a glare and a 'hush' from Francis.

"Of course I don't!" Francis growled, but the looks he got from Gilbert and Antonio said they didn't believe him.

This was getting out of hand, he couldn't have people actually thinking he liked Arthur.

After all... He couldn't like Arthur... He couldn't stand him, he hated everything about him; they'd always been like that, hadn't they?

There were always those odd clips they shared where they actually seemed to genuinely be doing something for the other out of a gesture of friendship; but that stuff didn't last.

He had to set this right.

"I'd better not be paired with him next time" Francis said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "he's like a baby; he can't take care of himself properly, it's really exhausting having to keep an eye on him all the time,"

"what are you doing?" Gilbert hissed under his breath, but Francis ignored him.

Feeling frustrated and angry at what he was saying, Francis stepped up a notch, "did he actually think I'd sleep with him after kisses like that?"

All eyes turned on the Brit; who's face was slowly moving between embarrassment, hurt, and anger.

"Who'd want to sleep with you BASTARD!" Arthur shouted suddenly, making everyone jump, "you attacked me you nymphomaniac!"

The Brit's body was trembling all over. Francis just wanted to die there on the spot, or at least be able to run; but he had to complete the image that he wasn't interested in him.

"Yeah because that was what you were saying when I stuck my tongue down your throat" he smirked, indicating on his own neck where he knew Arthur's hicky to be. He saw the Brit's hand immediately leap to it. "I thought I heard you moan when I did that."

Arthur's eyes were watery and straining; like the Brit was trying to hold back the tears. "Like I'd ever let you do anything like that with my consent, I HATE YOU!" With that Arthur shot from the room before anyone could react to what had just passed between the two.

"That was mean," Italy was the first to speak, staring at the door where Arthur had disappeared.

Arthur didn't come back for the second half of the meeting, and Francis was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Already hating himself for what he'd just said; maybe he didn't need to go that far.

The meeting finished at about Five, and one seat was still empty.

"France" Germany beckoned him over, while all the other nations were preparing to go back to their hotel rooms or out for dinner somewhere in Berlin.

Guiltily Francis made his way over to Germany, he knew what was coming.

"Don't you think that was a little uncalled for?" The stoic German questioned, brushing Italy aside for a moment.

Francis just nodded.

"You're just denying the inevitable like that" Germany sighed, shaking his head, "that speech didn't fall anyone except England."

"I don't get why everyone keeps saying that" Francis grumbled, not able to look Germany in the eye.

"Because we all know you love him" Italy jumped in, only to be pushed back again by Germany, "you're the country of love, shouldn't you know that?"

Before Francis could protest again, Germany held up his hand.

"Look, he's probably out in Berlin somewhere getting pissed; go and find him before he gets arrested for something," fixing a warning look on the Frenchman he let Italy lead him from the meeting hall, leaving Francis alone.

Was he really in love with England?

The thought seemed ridiculous, but something about it seemed to tug at his chest.

"Let's go then" he sighed, pulling his coat over his shoulders, ready to search every pub in Berlin if he had to. Arthur had certainly had enough time to get drunk.

* * *

><p>Arthur glanced up, then lay his head back down on the counter. He'd try again when the room stopped spinning.<p>

"Want another," Arthur held up his empty bar glass the man behind the counter,

"Sorry, I think you've had enough" the man told him, taking the glass from his hand, "you should get home while you can still remember where home is."

Feeling a sudden rage welling up Arthur managed to pull himself to his feet.

"You can't do that!" He snapped, almost jumping over the counter to get his glass back, "I want more!"

"Well you can't have it" the barman told him firmly, "do you want me to ring the police?"

Arthur was about to shout something back, when someone took his arm and pulled him away. "Don't worry, we'll take care of him," a voice he didn't recognise.

He could hear alarm bells going off in his head, but with the way the floor wouldn't stay still, that was the least of his worries.

Another man had taken hold of his other arm, they seemed to be leading him outside the pub.

"Where are we going?" He managed to slur, trying to remember what he usually did in these situations.

He was drunk... What did that mean he had to do?

Feeling a tremble in his stomach, and the threat of vomit in his throat he remembered. Concentrating his magic on recovering.

He'd almost forgotten the men that had pulled him out of the pub.

But he was brought back to their presence when he felt his head jerk against a wall.

His magic was beginning to clear his senses, but not fast enough it seemed.

One of the men had pinned his wrists to the wall while the other started kissing him.

Trying to see through his drunken fog, Arthur struggled against the one that was holding him. What was going on? Hadn't he been in a pub a moment ago?

"Get off" he managed to grunt, struggling a little harder, "what do you think you bastards are doing!"

"Look at this" one of them called to his mate.

Arthur shivered as his shirt was pulled open revealing his bare skin to the cold night air.

They were studying the hicky on his neck that Francis had left.

"Do you think he's got a boyfriend?" One of them asked the other worriedly. But hands continued to touch Arthur's body, so he assumed at least one had decided it didn't matter.

"I-I do" Arthur stammered, hoping they wouldn't be able to tell he was lasting, "you let me go, or he'll find you and make you regret the day you stepped out for a drink!"

"I'm so scared" they laughed. Arthur felt himself turned so he was now facing the wall.

Feeling sober enough, he tried to strike out at his captors.

Someone took hold of his head and slammed it hard into the wall, making him disorientated again. The same hand held him still while he felt an unfamiliar mouth trace over his neck.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard that when my friend starts you won't be able to stand" the harsh voice whispered in his ear, biting Arthur's shoulder blade.

Arthur could feel blood trickling down his forehead. The blood and the panic was making him dizzy; maybe it would be better if he just fainted now.

Then a hard sound echoed just past his left ear.

The one behind him was hit backwards, and the other ran to his aid; leaving Arthur to slump to the floor trying to make sense of what was happening.

It sounded like a fight.

Turning his head, and managing to get up the energy to heal his injury Arthur thought he could catch sight of Francis... Wait, Francis!

The French nation had hold of one of the men by the scruff of his shirt, "did you touch him!" He spat, "did either of you fuck him!"

"N-No" stammered the man, scampering off when Francis dropped him to the floor.

"Francis?" Arthur was confused, or was that just the concussion?

"Merde, Cher what did they do to you?" Francis bent down beside him, brushing the blood from his forehead, and examining the new love bites with distaste.

"Like you care" Arthur managed to grumble, before Francis' arms scooped underneath him, lifting him off his feet.

"Let's get you back to the hotel" the Frenchman whispered, adjusting Arthur in his arms so they were both comfortable.

Francis couldn't look at Arthur, but Arthur stared at him with amazement the whole way back.

A few people stopped to try and help but Francis dismissed them, not putting the Brit down until they were in his hotel room.

"Don't I hate you?" Arthur asked, finally managing to focus on Francis' face,

"Probably" Francis agreed, leaving Arthur for a moment to fetch a wet towel from the ensuite bathroom to dab the blood away from Arthur's hairline and face.

"You said some nasty stuff" the Brit mumbled, when he face was clean again; finally taking note that he was shirtless. He must have lost his shirt back in that alley.

"I'm sorry," Francis closed his eyes, "Italy was right... Seeing those bastards doing that to you, it made me realise..."

"What?" Arthur felt a small flutter in his chest.

The feeling only sped up when Francis pulled him into a soft chaste kiss; this time not holding Arthur into it.

For a moment the Brit relaxed, then he pushed Francis away.

"I'm not falling for that again" he murmured, tears beginning to fill his emerald eyes again.

"Look, I made all that stuff up back in the meeting," Francis pulled the smaller man into a tight hug, "I just didn't know... I mean..."

Arthur felt himself being directed down beneath Francis on the bed.

"Je t'aime Arthur..." Francis whispered in his ear, sounding like it was taking all his energy just to utter those few words.

The Brit felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Y-You're lying" he stammered, but he didn't push the Frenchman away, "please don't tease me like this,"

"I'm not lying!" Francis gritted his teeth, sitting up so he was straddling Arthur's waist, "Dieu! Je t'aime! I love you! Can't you understand that!"

"You... Love... Me...?" Arthur processed it slowly, "but how could you?"

"I don't know," Francis closed his eyes, why was Arthur asking such stupid questions?

"But you're so... I mean... Good looking," Arthur blushed, "you like good looking people, like I said last time..."

"And I told you last time, you are cute, and you certainly are very attractive" Francis pressed his mouth to Arthur's again, letting his tongue trail over the hickies that weren't his. Working over the marks till his own covered them. "See cher, you're mine" he grinned proudly, "and whether you love me back or not, be prepared that I won't ever let anybody else touch you."

The Brit's face was deep red and he was chewing on his bottom lip. "Do you really mean it?"

"How many more times do I need to say it!" Francis snapped, pressing his lips even more forcefully on the other man, pressing his tongue in this time; pressing his knee against Arthur's lower regions.

The Brit moaned, wrapping his fingers into Francis' hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Every need in his body was craving the Frenchman's touch.

Arthur arched his back when Francis began trailing his tongue down his chest; striking out against the hardened nipples, swirling around one while his finger played with the other.

Then suddenly Francis drew back looking Arthur hard in the face.

"What?" Arthur was a little intimidated by the look.

"If we're going to do this you have to say you love me first" Francis told him stubbornly, folding his arms.

"What!" Arthur squirmed, did Francis know how damaging that would be to his pride? ...What was he saying, of course Francis knew, that was why he was making him do it.

"I'm waiting cher," Francis let a small smile creep over his pout; grinding down a little on Arthur's hips.

Keeping his mouth closed, Arthur only opened it to gasp when Francis took hold of his hardened member beneath his boxers.

"God" Arthur choked, clutching at the bedsheets breathing hard, "I-I..." He closed his eyes, struggling to get the words out, until Francis gave a small twitch of his wrist. "I love you!" Arthur shouted, probably load enough for every one in the hotel to hear.

"Thank you" Francis grinned, leaning back to kiss the Brit again in gratitude. "You always had a way with words" he teased, helping Arthur shift his trousers off.

Arthur growled, cursing when Francis touched him, making his erection twitch. Arthur bit his lip again, trying hold back the sounds that were threatening to explode from inside him.

"Don't do that" Francis prised his jaws away from his lip with concern, "I don't want to see you hurting yourself..." He smiled when Arthur moaned his name when he began to stroke his fingers along the erection.

Without even having to see him, Francis could imagine Arthur's cute blush when he lowered his mouth over the other's lower regions.

He darted out his tongue to lick away some of the pre-cum.

"Why are you topping anyway?" Arthur managed to ask between gasping Francis' name.

"Are you seriously asking that?" Francis smirked, replacing his mouth with his hand instead, running it along the length.

Bending down to kiss the Brit again, feeling a jerk as the smaller man cummed against his chest.

"Oh God sorry" Arthur apologised, suddenly remembering that the other man was still wearing his shirt.

Laughing, Francis brushed him off, lifting the shirt over his head, "I don't mind cher" he smiled. Glancing round the room, "you don't have any lube do you?"

The English nation flushed, looking annoyed, "of course I don't!" He snapped, "do you think I expect this sort of thing to happen on a business meeting!"

"So innocent~" The Frenchman beamed, pulling Arthur to his chest in a hug, "you're just too mignon!"

"Shut up Wanker" Arthur grumbled, pressing his own mouth against Francis'. He hesitated, pulling back from the kiss, "what are we going to do then?"

Thinking hard, Francis held out his hand.

"Suck" he ordered, wiggling his fingers in front of the Brit's eyes.

"I beg your pardon!" The Brit demanded, glaring at the Frenchman,

"If you don't I'll just stick them in anyway" Francis warned, making to move his fingers towards Arthur's entrance.

"Wait!" The English nation pulled his hand back, slowly opening his mouth and leading Francis' fingers towards his mouth.

Blushing, Francis felt his own need growing harder with the feeling of Arthur's tongue swirling round his fingers, drenching them in saliva. He caught the Brit's grin when he let out an involuntary moan.

He pulled his fingers back sharpish when Arthur gave one of them a sharp nip.

Glaring at the smirking Brit, Francis flipped him onto his front, giving his arse a sharp slap with his dry hand.

"Fucking moron!" Arthur growled, trying to turn again.

Francis inserted his first finger, and felt Arthur immediately tense around it; letting out a pained cry, biting the pillows beneath him.

"Sorry" Francis mumbled, kissing the Brit's shoulder blades softly, feeling a little guilty at having turned him so they weren't facing each other. But he couldn't move him now, he had to finish the job first.

He let his second digit join the first, scissoring out for more space, while trying to sooth the Brit's tears.

Directing his fingers around, Francis felt himself brush against the right spot.

"What the hell was that!" Arthur arched his back, moaning into the pillows.

"Mon cher you must know what a prostate is... Unless..." He gave a small chuckle, watching the Brit's whole body turn red with embarrassment, "Arthur, you're not a virgin are you? After all those stories you bragged about in your pirate days?"

"Shut up and get on with it" was the only muttered reply he got.

Feeling confident there was now enough space, Francis helped Arthur turn around onto his back, kissing him lovingly before directing himself inside, trying to remember where that prostate had been.

Arthur had lifted his waist off the bed to meet Francis' thrusts, letting out exclamations of joy and pain between moans.

The Frenchman's hands were clamped round his arse, helping the Englishman move against his thrusts.

When he found the spot he'd been looking for, Francis picked up the pace; almost pulling himself out of the Brit with every thrust, slamming back into him with all his force.

He could see the Brit clutching at the sheets, with his bright green eyes swimming with tears of pain. He wasn't going to admit that he couldn't take much more.

Lifting Arthur to sit on his lap he pulled a passionate kiss out of the Brit, pressing their chests close together so he could feel the aroused nipples against his skin.

With a grunt he released inside the Englishman, silencing Arthur's final cry with a gentle sealing kiss.

He let Arthur lie back down on the covers looking exhausted.

Francis pulled his dripping cock from Arthur's entrance climbing off him to examine his thin body once more before lying down next to him and pulling the covers over them both.

"I don't belong to anybody Frog..." Arthur managed to whisper just loud enough for Francis to hear, he paused contemplating the situation, then added, "...but I can lend myself to you... Of course only when it's in my best interests..."

"Allez dormir mon petit lapin" Francis smiled, pressing a finger to Arthur's lips to hush him, "I love you,"

"Je t'aime Frog..." With that Arthur fell asleep, snuggling against Francis' chest, while the Frenchman wrapped his arms around the other's form.

""Je ne vais jamais te laisser partir"." _I'm never letting you go._


End file.
